


The World Ends Here

by whatevvver



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DC Comics Rebirth, DC/Marvel crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marvel Universe, Steve Rogers is Not a Nazi, other than that comic book based, some stuff taken from the MCU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:45:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatevvver/pseuds/whatevvver
Summary: Kamala Khan wakes up to find the world in ruins. The Avengers have fallen and the world has no defenses left, until a new wave of superheroes arrive.Alternately, the Marvel/DC crossover that everyone didn't know they wanted.





	1. Prologue

* * *

 

Some mistakes are universal. Some are universe-changing.

You watch as the first bubble explodes into an inferno of scarlet and obsidian. An exploding volcano. A dying star. The end of a universe.

‘What do we do?’ Praes Kethl’un asks nervously.

‘Wait,’ you say. ‘And watch.’


	2. Kamala Khan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sky is black.

_ On the day the world ends, _ _   
_ _ A bee circles a clover _

_ -Czelaw Misloz _

 

* * *

 

The world doesn’t end the way Kamala expects it to. Well, she never really expected it to end, but she had always thought it would be like this: Thanos or some other angry god unleashing their fury upon humankind; Kamala too late and too helpless to stop them. She had thought it would be fire and flood, death and destruction, and that the streets would be filled with the putrid, gagging odor of burned flesh and freshly spilled blood.

In hindsight, she had been very, very dramatic.

The world ends with her college applications still glaring at her from her dimmed laptop screen. 

Kamala races downstairs. “Ammi! _ Ammi – _ ”

Her mother looks up. A new layer of wrinkles line her face, brought on no doubt from the stress of potential university rejections and Kamala’s ‘night job.’ (Or day job, depends on when the villain strikes, really.) “What?”

“Look at the sky.”

Her mother’s frown deepens. She pulls her hand away from the dough she is kneading. “I look at the sky every day.”  Her accent is thick and warm around her words. 

“Ammi, it’s black.” 

Her mother does not seem concerned. “It’s probably one of Tony Stark’s inventions,” she says. “Sit down,  _ beta _ .”

“Ammi, you don’t understand. The sky is black and it’s eight o’clock. In the morning.”

“It’s Tony Stark,” repeats her mother, “or…I don’t know, maybe it’s an Avenger or something.”

Kamala winces and briefly wonders when she should tell her parents that she had been an Avenger. She shoves that thought in the back of her mind. Tomorrow, she decides, even though she knows it won’t be tomorrow. 

“But –”

“Sit,” says her mother in her Angry Immigrant Mom voice.

Kamala sits. 

Tyesha enters the kitchen. She’s wearing a white skirt, a white hijab, and the Avengers T-shirt Kamala bought her for Eid. The swell of her belly is just barely visible underneath the shirt and it still makes Kamala grin when she sees it. Holy shit, she’s going to be an  _ aunt _ . 

“Where’s Aamir?” her mother asks without turning around.

“In bed,” says Tyesha softly. She flashes Kamala a small smile and sits next to her. “He’s feeling a bit sick.”

“Is he taking the day off of work, Tyesha?”

“Yes,  _ Amma-jaan _ .” It had taken a while for Tyesha to call her mother that, a while for her to feel completely comfortable within the family, but now Tyesha and her mother are so close that Kamala can practically feel the warmth radiating between the two of them. “Don’t worry; he already phoned the imam.”

Her mother mutters something inaudible (and probably unkind) and continues to knead the dough. 

Kamala swivels to look Tyesha in the eye. “Did you see –”

“The sky?” Tyesha smiles. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Kamala. Jersey’s seen much worse.”

“I guess.”

“Finish your toast. I’ll drive you to school.”

Kamala perks up. Whenever Tyesha drivers her to school she drives them to Jerry’s Jellies first. “Can I get the extra-big chocolate-and-coconut donut?” 

“If we have enough time.” Tyesha pats her belly. “I think the baby wants some zucchini bread.”

\--/--

She should have been expecting this, but her eyes still widen when she sees Miles sitting cross-legged outside of Jerry’s Jellies, and Sam, munching on a piece of cranberry cream pie, crouched next to him. 

“Are these friends of yours?” Tyesha asks. 

“Um,” says Kamala. 

“We…met at a science fair,” Miles explains. 

“Oh.” Tyesha relaxes. Fractionally. “Well, while you three socialize, I’m going to go buy some zucchini bread for the baby.”

Kamala’s shoulders loosen. Aamir would’ve asked a million and one questions about Miles and Sam before letting her even step foot near them, but Tyesha has always been understanding. More than understanding. Times like these she feels like the older sister Kamala never got but always wanted.

“Do you still want that donut, Kamala?”

Yup, total big older sister here. Kamala nods, and then flops down in front of Sam and Miles on the curb.  

It’s been weeks since they’ve met as the Champions or as the Avengers; still, it’s nice to see them. Even if Miles is chewing his bottom lip distractedly and even if Sam is wearing that hideous cranberry red sweater his little sister had bought him. Even if Tyesha had seen them and even if Kamala is still trying to separate her work life from her personal life.

“So,” says Kamala after Tyesha leaves, hugging her knees to her chest, “um…what’s up?”

Miles stops biting his lip and a shadow falls across Sam’s face. Really, this should be the first hint that something is wrong, but it’s not. Nothing can prepare Kamala for what Miles says next.

“The Avengers are gone.”

Kamala blinks. “What? Did they go on vacation? Are we supposed to, like, fill in for them or –”

“No,” says Sam, kicking the curb, his eyes downcast, “they’re not on vacation. They’re  _ gone _ .”

Kamala stops speaking. The words die in the back of her throat. Later she will realize that she had always known; that she had known from the second she had seen Sam and Miles waiting for her with solemn faces.

Miles looks at her with glassy, grieving eyes, and says, “Ironman died, Kamala. W – We think the…the others did, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> Basically, I've always wanted a pic where my faves from Marvel and DC save the world together. So. This is that. FYI the main characters are the ones in the tags, but there were be a lot of other superheroes who show up, and POVs from some of them, as well.
> 
> I hope you like the beginning!
> 
> Please feel free to tell me what you think :)


	3. Miles Morales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles, Sam, and Kamala meet a kid genius to figure out what's going on.

_Tony’s face underneath the dark sky. His body torn apart. The look in his eyes as Miles held him, as Miles watched a founding member of the Avengers die like any other human._

“Miles?”

Kamala’s voice cuts through the din in Miles’s mind. He blinks. There is blood in his mouth. There had been blood on his hands –

“Tony died?” Kamala drops on her knees and he thinks _I wish you had been there_. “Are you -”

“He died,” Sam says. Miles feels a sudden, inexplicable rush of gratitude, then, because _Sam_ had been there. “We – we saw him.”

“No,” says Kamala. “He couldn’t – Tony, Tony wouldn’t – Cap wouldn’t let him -”

“Cap’s missing,” Sam says. Miles had had to wrestle him to keep him from searching for Sam Wilson in all septillion corners of the universe.

Kamala’s words die in her mouth. This is the first time Miles has seen Kamala Khan, Ms. Marvel, Jersey City’s local hero, speechless. Gutsy, bright-eyed, Kamala Khan left staring at them with wide-eyes and an open mouth.

For the second time today, Miles wants to cry.

His hands curl into fists. No. He can’t. He won’t. He’ll be strong. He has to be.

Still, his eyes flicker to the sky. He knows what Iron Man, what Tony Stark, had meant to Kamala. He can’t bear to see her weep –

“Then Cap’s still alive.”

Surprised, Miles's gaze lands on her. Kamala’s eyes are still wide, but her chin is thrust upward and there is this look in her eyes that makes him shiver. It is the same look she had the week she charged into Thanos’s stomach, her hands enlarged – enbiggened – and her eyes full of endless determination.

“I don’t – we don’t – he isn’t responding to his calls.”

The excuse sounds feeble to his own ears.

“He’s in trouble.” Kamala’s voice is hoarse. “He has to be in trouble, if Tony is –” She stops talking again, mid-sentence, and Miles watches her jaw jump.

_Dead. If Tony is dead._

Miles opens his mouth.

“Kamala! They didn’t have any chocolate-and-coconut doughnuts left – Kamala? Are you alright?”

A pregnant woman stands beside Kamala. Her dark brown eyes narrow into a glare as she looks between a kneeling Kamala and Miles and Sam.

“What’s going on?” She presses a hand on Kamala’s shoulder.

Miles gulps. “N – Nothing…we – we, we were –”

“They didn’t do anything, Tyesha.” Kamala lifts her head. “I swear – it’s just, it’s just, um, school stuff.”

“School stuff.” Her hand is still on Kamala’s shoulder.

“Yeah, school stuff,” Kamala echoes. Miles is starting to think they’re having a completely different conversation. He’s not sure, though. He’s never been good with subtlety. “Our…our mentor is.” She swallows. “Absent.”

“Oh.” Tyesha removes her hand. “I see.”

Kamala’s voice is weak. “Um, he was really, really important.” She gestures to Miles and Sam. “To…to us.”

“Okay.” Tyesha’s voice is calm, soothing. For a moment, she reminds Miles of his mother, who used to rub circles on his back when he had been afraid of the monster in his closet. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Miles knows she doesn’t know what’s going on. He knows she doesn’t know about Tony, or about Cap; and she can’t know about what happened this morning. His shoulders still loosen. He still lets himself listen to her steady reassurance.

Sam speaks next. He rubs the back of his neck, like he always does when he’s trying to figure out how to talk to a person without messing up. Usually, how to talk to Kamala. (Miles would be a fool if he hadn’t noticed.) “Um, can you drop us off at the library? We’ve got shi – stuff to do.”

“School starts in fifteen minutes.”

Sam flushes. “Yeah, I just…uh, left my flash drive at the library. For the, uh, group project.”

Tyesha’s eyebrows rise. “Kamala never said anything about a group project.”

Kamala fidgets. “Um. Well, group project.”

“What’s it on?” Tyesha asks conversationally.

“Nebulas,” Sam says.

“Feminism,” Kamala says at the same time as Sam.

“Spider silk,” Miles says at the same time as the both of them.

Tyesha’s eyebrows rise even higher.

Miles heart sinks and he almost groans out loud.

Kamala blurts out, “Um, it’s, like, all three actually.” She beams. “Like there’s this, um, queen ant in Nebula…um, in Nebula –”

“Nebula T2-391,” Sam fills in, “In Nebula T2-391.”

“Right...and, um, we’re analyzing the...the matriarchal practices of the queen ant in Nebula T2-391.”

Slowly, Tyesha says, “And where does the spider silk come into this, Kamala?”

Kamala and Sam look at him, then, Kamala’s eyes screaming _your turn_ and Sam’s screaming _spider silk? Seriously?_ Miles groans. “Um, the ants in that nebula…have a symbiotic relationship with spiders?”

Tyesha stares at him for a few seconds. Miles manages to meet her gaze. He doesn’t know what else he can say – maybe the spiders are patriarchal? Maybe it’s a weird partnership that defies societal ideologies? Who the hell knows? He saw Tony _die_ last night, and he’s too tired to play this game, whatever it is.

“Well,” Tyesha says finally. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze in the car.”

\--/--

Tyesha had not been lying.

Miles had been stuck between Kamala, who half-heartedly responded to Tyesha’s questions, and Sam, who only stared out the window. It had taken fifteen minutes for them to reach the library, and another two minutes for them to pile out of the car and for Kamala to say her goodbyes to Tyesha. Now they’re at the back of the red brick building, hiding behind the marble pillars.

“Did you alert the other Avengers?”

“We tried.” Sam kicks a pebble. “No response.”

“Thor…Thor didn’t respond? What about the Vision?” Kamala’s voice rises. “The Wasp? Jarvis?”

Miles shakes his head.

Kamala’s mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again, then shuts again. Miles doesn’t need telepathy to know what’s she’s thinking. It’s the same question he’s pondering, too, along with Sam:

_What do we do now?_

“Amadeus." Kamala's voice is quiet. "He’ll help us, I know it.”

“He didn’t answer.” Miles feels another, gentler wave of grief wash over him. “He’s still. Angry.”

Kamala’s shoulders slump. Miles despises the unhidden shame on her face. It isn’t her fault, hadn’t ever been her fault, but no matter how many times Sam and he tell her that, she brushes them off. Sometimes Miles thinks she’s still living in that moment when –

“I…I know someone else that can help,” Sam says suddenly. “I mean – well, _I_ don’t know her, but you guys do, and you guys keep telling me how smart she is so – ”

“Who?” Miles and Kamala ask simultaneously.

“The smartest person in the world. According to my mom, at least, and she reads the Times. So.” Sam notices their joint expression and scratches the back of his head. “Sorry, rambling’s a bad habit. I think her superhero name’s Moon-something?”

“Moon Girl,” Kamala breathes. “Oh my God, why didn’t I think of her?”

“I…don’t know?” Sam says. “But the thing is, I don’t know where she lives.”

“I do.” Kamala turns to Miles. Her eyes shine with newfound hope. “Have you ever heard of Public School 20 Anna Silver?”

\--/--

Located in the Lower-East side of Manhattan, Public School 20 Anna Silver is a two-story brick building. It has a rusty playground filled with teetering metal slides and a street filled with school buses. Ivy hugs the walls, and mud puddles decorate the sidewalks. In the winter, the elementary school smells like pine and gingerbread. In the summer, it reeks of sweat and cotton candy. When Miles is in his Spiderman suit, the school kids will clamor for his autograph; it's sort of the highlight of his patrol.

Miles doesn’t take Kamala and Sam to P.S. 20 Anna Silver, though. Not at first.

Instead, he leads them to an alley between Bert’s Berrylicious Ice-Cream Parlor and a run-down arcade. It smells of rotten fruit and wet cat in here, but Miles shrugs off the smell: New York smells like New York.

Sam says, “This doesn’t look like an elementary school, Miles.”

“We need to change into our superhero getups first. Moon Girl isn’t going to help three random kids.”

“Lunella’s pretty nice, actually.” Kamala rummages through her backpack. “You’re right, though. We still need to keep our identities hidden.”

“Um.” Sam scratches his head. “Miles?

He shrugs his own backpack off of his shoulders. “It’s in here.”

“Right, I thought so.” Sam takes out his helmet. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Miles grabs his own costume. “Are we _all_ going to change in an alley?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hide behind the dumpster,” Sam advises.

Groaning, Miles follows his suggestion.

As soon as he puts his suit on, he wants to rip it off of his skin and shove it into the dumpster. The kevlar-spandex mesh has rips everywhere: the shoulders, elbows, knees, and chest. Miles runs a hand across the spider that once decorated the center of his suit; it's tattered, the cloth peeling off in bloody strips. Tony's blood. He already knows he won't ever be able to wash away the stains, no matter how much bleach he uses. He wants to burn this costume. But he can't. He won't.

Miles swallows the bile in his throat. “Ready?”

“I am. Sam?”

“My suit shrank,” Sam says disdainfully. “Miles?”

Miles turns around to face his friend. “You’re good...Mostly.”

Sam groans. “It’s the legs, right?”

“Yeah.” Miles coughs. “They’re a bit...tight.”

Sam makes a face.

“Hey, man.” Miles forces himself to grin. “I’m sure the girls will love ‘em.”

(He wants to say that a few boys might prefer them as well, but he isn’t brave enough. Zapping criminals with his venomous webs requires less courage than confessing whatever feelings he may or may not have.)

“As much as I hate to interrupt this bonding moment,” says Kamala, “we should figure out how we’re gonna talk to Luna.”

Miles flushes. “She’s in class right now. Do you think they’d let Spiderman pick her up from school?”

“Not the teenage version, no.” Kamala pauses. “What if I made myself taller via the Inhuman schtick? Maybe I could pass as a Responsible Adult Who Doesn’t Write Fanfiction?”

Miles bites his lip. Kamala looks every bit the spick-and-span heroine Jersey loves, but...Maybe he’s biased, but her unabashed, sweet-as-honey stare doesn't look Responsible _or_ Adult. It looks like Kamala, plain, wonderful, high school Kamala. “Um...No.”

She sighs. “Any other plans, guys?”

“I could fly her out of the playground during recess," Sam offers.

“Sam, that's kidnapping.”

"No," Sam denies. "I mean, yes. But also, no, because what kid doesn't want to fly?"

Kamala shakes her head. "I'm already in enough trouble with the City Council. I don't want to add a felony to their list of excuses to throw me in prison."

Miles flexes his shoulders. They still hurt. Ganke would tell him to go to the hospital, but Ganke's not here. "I have an idea."

"I'm all ears," Sam says, tapping his helmet.

"Me, too," says Kamala. She actually grabs her ears.

Despite himself, Miles can't help but laugh. "What are you doing, Kamala?"

"I'm showing support for your idea, Miles." She nudges Sam in the shoulder. "We both are."

Something inside of Miles eases. Peter Parker, the original Spiderman, had once told him that almost everything in the world had a pair. The sky, the earth. Adenosine, thymidine. Structuralism, nominalism. Back then, Miles had teased Peter for sounding like an old man reciting folklore. But now, in this cramped alley in Manhattan, he thinks he finally understands. Pairs. Him and Sam. Him and Kamala.

"Do you guys know how to hotwire an ice-cream truck?" Miles asks.

\--/--

Turns out, Google has 345,929 articles on hot-wiring an automobile. (Or, in their case, a semi-large truck.) With the help of Wikihow, Kamala starts lock-picking her way into the driver's seat. While she finishes, Miles places a wrinkly twenty-dollar bill on the street corner. He grabs a chipped piece of gravel and scratches a message on the sidewalk: _we had to borrow your ice-cream truck to help save the world. Don't worry, though! We'll drive VERY safely and return the truck before ten PM. Also, we left you all the money we had in our pockets as compensation. Sorry for the inconvenience :( Sincerely, Spiderman, Nova, and Ms. Marvel._

"Hey losers! Get in!" Kamala whisper-yells from the driver's seat. 

Sam hops in the back and Miles calls shotgun. The seat is sticky. He grimaces. “This better be ice-cream.”

“Speaking of ice-cream,” Sam calls out, “do you guys prefer almond-tangerine or marmalade-peanut?”

“I’m a chocolate kind of guy.”

“Sorry, Miles. These are the only two flavors...unless you want a...a Vegemite popsicle?”

“Actually, we should save the treats to bribe the kids,” Kamala interrupts. “Also: did you guys overlook my Mean Girls reference?”

“Mean Girls?” Sam asks.

Kamala narrowly misses a pole before taking a sharp left on Rivington St. “Mean Girls? The iconic teenage comedy? The inspiration for my Wolverine and Thor fanfiction?”

“Um…”

“Wolverine and Thor?” Miles says. “Where’d you get _that_  pairing from?” Still, he can't help but feel glad that she's starting to crack some jokes. Only an hour ago she had looked shellshocked with grief.

“From the depths of their love." The truck careens across Stanton St. “Almost there.”

Miles shakes his head and stops thinking about Thor and Wolverine falling in love. “Kamala, are you sure you can park the car?”

“Definitely. Yes."

Closing his eyes, Miles sends a quick prayer to God that Kamala won't crash into a parked school bus. Then, opening his eyes, he swivels in his seat to look at Sam. The other boy is clutching a mud-colored popsicle, tentatively tasting it. "Sam, you good?"

"Yep." Sam sets down the popsicle and rings the bell. "I ring this, you 'sell' the goods. We find Moon-Girl, ask for her help, and ta-da, we're good to go."

Miles thrums his fingers on his lap. "What if the kids aren't let out?"

"Um," says Sam, "we could...throw ice-cream at the windows?"

Fortunately, Sam's Plan B doesn't come to fruition. Seconds before the lunch bell rings, Kamala manages to snatch a spot on the right side of the building. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Miles makes his way to the back of the truck and gestures at Sam to hit the bell. Sam does, just as the kids swarm out of the back doors, like lions prancing toward gazelles. Miles starts sweating. These kids look _hungry_. Like, climb into the truck and steal all their ice-cream hungry. Oh, Christ.

"Vegemite Popsicles!" Sam cries, waving the offending items in his hands. "Come on, kiddos!"

"What's Vegemite?" a young girl with pigtails asks.

"Nutella," Miles improvises. "Fancy European Nutella."

"Australian, actually," Sam whispers.

Miles hands her a popsicle, anyway. "Do you know where Lunella is?"

"She's coming," Pigtails says. She rips open the wrapper and licks the desert. " _Yuck_."

Twenty-five ravenous school-children later, Lunella Lafayette approaches the truck. She's wearing her usual outfit: khaki shorts, and a green-and-blue plaid, short-sleeved T-shirt. Her eyes are alight, but she holds her chin high, an aloofness to her that Miles now knows stems from nervousness. Lunella inches closer to the window and adjusts her gigantic, eggplant purple glasses. "Spiderman? This is the third time in approximately 17 days. You're off-pattern today."

Miles scratches his head. "There's a pattern?"

"You come every other Tuesday." Lunella shrugs. "Oh, and you have a propensity to visit on Fridays if you've also visited on Wednesdays. But today's Thursday, and you rarely ever come on Thursdays. I assume it's because you have an after-school activity on Thursdays. Chess, right?"

"Chinese checkers, actually."

"Oh. Is Ms. Marvel here?"

"Yes."

Lunella bites her lip. She looks shy now, and Miles knows that Kamala has become Lunella's idol of sorts. "I was going to call her via the Avengers Communicator, but my science teacher confiscated it. Where is she?"

"Front seat," Sam says. "She drove."

"She only has a permit."

"Well...that explains a lot," Miles says. "Lunella, we're here because we need your help."

"It's because of the sky, yes?" Narrowing her eyes at his expression, she says, "I thought so. Anyway. We should talk about it in my lab. I have some data to show you three, if you want it."

"We want it. But...Don't you have class?"

Making a face, Lunella says, "Science class is _dumb_ , Spiderman. I don't learn anything. Trust me, it's not hindering my education if I miss it."

A part of Miles wants to disagree. School is important, he wants to tell her, because that's what his parents told him growing up...And it sounds like something a responsible mentor would say. The other part of him knows that he doesn't need to tell her that. She has a lab, for Christ's sake. She has a giant dinosaur. She's more intelligent than Amadeus or Tony or any other genius Miles has ever met. If she doesn't like school, it's probably because school doesn't like her. So, he only nods. "Okay, got it. Where's your lab?"

\--/--

"As you can see," Moon-Girl says, "something is warping the space-time continuum." She pushes several buttons and a map of New York City appears. "I managed to engineer the Omni-Wave Projector to measure the amount of 'warped' time-space energy that exists within our world. Said energy - for clarity's sake, let's call them omnis - collect in small amounts. Usually, 0.5 plancks worth of omnis for one square mile."

Miles stares at the map. "Is the black stuff the warped energy?"

"Yes. See how there's barely any black on the map? That's because this map was from yesterday afternoon, before the sky turned black and the Tower fell."

The Tower.

Miles's chest constricts.

"Today, however..." Lunella pulls up another graph. "Half of Manhattan is black."

Sam slides closer to Miles. He presses one hand on Miles shoulder and asks, "What do you think this means?"

Lunella hops out of her fuzzy pink chair. She adjusts her glasses - a nervous tic of hers - and starts pacing the floor. If this was a cartoon, a flickering light bulb would be hanging over her head. "I don't have enough data...I don't..." She takes a deep breath. "The Omni Wave Projector doesn't tell me _how_ something happens. Or why. I haven't cross-examined enough Kree technology to know how time and space intersect."

"That's okay," Kamala says. She leans on her knee and takes Lunella's hand. "We're not asking for the secrets of the universe. We want to know what you think."

Emboldened by Kamala's kindness, Lunella straightens. She continues pacing before she whirls around and heads toward the monitors. "Think of it like this: space-time is a liquid, okay? It's like oxygen in the atmosphere or water in the ocean. It surrounds us and creates the expanse of the universe itself." Lunella looks Miles in the eye. "My guess is that the omnis I've recorded are a result of cracks in the glass holding the liquid."

"You think our universe is breaking?" Sam asks faintly.

Lunella hesitates. "It's cracking. But what if..."

"What if?" Kamala prompts.

"The rate at which the omnis are appearing is diminishing. Irregularly, yes, but..." Lunella wrings her hands. "If our universe is breaking, then we should be slipping away like water out of a glass. But in the epicenter of Manhattan, where I first noticed the darkening, there are now a few specks of... _green_."

"Green?" Miles's brow wrinkles. "I thought there was only black and blue."

"Different energy emitting from a different space-time. It's improbable, but possible. Miles, what happens if a cup of orange juice cracks, but there's another a glass of lemon juice underneath it?"

Miles blinks, confused by the change of topic. "Um...the orange juice flows into the lemon juice?"

" _Yes_ ," Moon-Girl breathes. "That's what I think, too."

"Erm," Sam says, "I'm lost. Why are we talking about orange juice?"

"It's an analogy, Nova." Moon-Girl inhales, then exhales. Her cheeks are flushing from excitement. "My hypothesis is that another space-time is flowing into the cracks of our universe. Like the orange into the lemon."

Miles's stomach sinks like a rock thrown in a pond. "A universe is colliding into ours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a LOT longer than I intended. Hopefully, this doesn't end up being a trend, lol .
> 
> Also, after Sam's chapter (which is the next chapter) I will finally start writing from the perspective of the major DC characters in this story. Basically, the structure of this story is 3 chapters Marvel, 3 chapters DC, with the three chapters alternating between each major character. Er...it should make more sense as it goes on.
> 
> Oh! In case you don't know, Ganke is Miles's best friend outside of Kamala and Sam. They're high school besties. 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter should be up soon.


	4. Sam Alexander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam investigates in Manhattan and runs into another vigilante.

Sam’s traveled to other universes. He’s seen their suns so up close they become fields of fire. He’s seen other suns, too: the red, molten ones, the newborn corn-yellow ones, the violet corpses of dead stars. And - he won’t ever tell his mom this - but he’s soared into planets made of burning ice. Planets that smell like rum and burnt sugar. Planets with scaly humanoids who swim in lava. Until today, Sam thought he knew everything about the universe. Because those unending galaxies? Those shimmering, scary _estrellas_? They’re his home.

He can't picture his universe cracking into shards of nothings. He can't picture all those planets fading away like drawings in an etch-a-sketch.

"Sam," Miles says through their shared comm. "I can't see anything, man. Even my Spider Senses aren't helping. Do you have a better vantage point?"

Sam steers his thoughts away from the impending apocalypse. "Yeah, hold on." Soon, he's ascending higher, defying the laws of physics as he does. "Oh, man."

"What is it?"

"It's...there's a hole." Sam's throat dries. He can see it now: the universe falling apart at the seams, like a makeshift sack dress. Rips in pockets; chasms between solar-systems. Buttons falling off; stars plunging into an unending abyss. "It looks like someone cut out Midtown with a pair of scissors."

Miles pauses. "Lunella said there's some green in there. You see any of that?"

"No, I'm too high." Sam twists his body to the right and tucks his head closer to his chest. "Um...green?"

"That's what the energy reading looks like, yeah."

"I don't see any green at all." He bites his bottom lip. "Hey, does your suit still have thermal goggles?"

"Yeah." He hears a click, and then Miles curses.

Sam's heart staccatos. "What?"

"Sam, there's only - only blue. Everyone is...is gone - "

Last night, Sam assumed all the people in Manhattan were safe. Now, he knows he was wrong. Everyone he hadn't spared a thought to is now gone and Sam wants to say he’s not responsible, but it feels a lot like he is.

He turns on his own heat imaging sensors. "I'm heading toward the Tower now. Miles..."

"Y - Yeah, Sam?"

"Don't die, dude."

“Yeah. Right. Sam - ”

Spotting the tower, Sam bends toward it, flattening his arms to his sides. “ETA five seconds until I reach Manhattan.”

“Sam,” he says after the briefest of pauses, “stay safe.”

Three seconds. Two seconds.

“I will.”

One second.

Sam lands and his comm crackles in his ear. Shit. Lunella had tinkered with these pairs before they left; if the green energy can tamper with _her_ designs… “I’m screwed.”

But he’s been screwed before. He’s been the nobody nothing in the middle of Arizona. The stupid kid who didn’t have friends. Who cleaned the school bathroom and yelled at his dad. Sam isn’t new to this...to this kind of despair, this frustration; he’s felt almost all of his life. And he’s won against it almost all of his life. He'll win this time, too. 

Sam steps forward toward...toward - He can’t see what it is...And yet, his feet keeping moving in that direction, like he’s standing on the shore and the tide is pulling him further into the water. Seconds pass, minutes maybe. Sam braces his shoulders, readies himself for the impact, for the bang, the explosion.

 _Come on_ , _come on_ -

A flash of brilliant green light. Sam doesn’t look away, even as his eyes water.

 _What_ -

Sam sees a hole in the darkness that looks like the opening of a tunnel. The light curves around the edges of the tunnel; Sam takes a deep breath and inches closer, until he can see what’s on the other side -

Brightly lit skyscrapers colored neon green and orange. A starry sky with five moons. A billboard reading Wayne Industry’s Latest Automobile. Broken roads; the distant sound of screaming, of things smashing. Sam’s breath catches in his throat; exactly at that moment, something yellow flashes into the sky, brilliant yellow-black against a backdrop of black-blue: a bat sign.

Sam doesn’t know what the hell that means, or what city this is, but he isn’t an Avenger for nothing. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s racing toward the city, determined to help prevent its fall. Sam jumps -

Something collides into him. Sam falls but his helmet quickly balances his momentum. He skids to his feet, his body aching, his arms held in front of him defensively.

“Name yourself!”

Sam looks up. Then, he looks down. “Uh...Who are you?”

Sam can’t see the kid’s eyes - they’re obscured by a green mask - but the kid scowls. This is a kid, right? He’s definitely shorter than Sam and his voice is higher-pitched.

“I asked for your name. I will _not_ ask twice.”

Sam takes a step back. “I’m...I’m Nova.”

“Nova?” The boy sneers. “I’ve never heard of you. You must be another knockoff Batman.”

Now, Sam’s frowning, his hands curling into fists. “I’m not second rate _any_ thing. Who the hell are you?”

The boy straightens. “Robin,” he says simply, stalking forward, away from the hole, from the city about to be destroyed. His voice turns grave. “Son of Batman.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” Robin’s voice is steely. “It means I’m going to save Gotham.”

Before Sam can say anything else - like ask this kid, Robin, what the hell Gotham is - the tunnel-hole-thing behind the two of them stretches wider with a slight tear. And then, Sam hears it: the silence that he had first listened to when the Avengers Tower fell, the silence that marks the end. And then...And then a small, subtle click. In seconds, in milliseconds, Sam wraps around Robin’s wrist and he’s flying again, carrying the two of them out of Manhattan.

 _Get out get out get out_ -

“I’m more help on the ground, you buffoon -”

The click becomes a boom and mid-flight, Sam realizes that he’s not going to make it. His chest sinks as fire cascades over him, as a shockwave slams into him and his helmet is shoved off of his head by the force of an exploding star. A universe breaking in two.

Sam starts falling. Somewhere along the way, Robin loses his grip. Somewhere further along the way, Sam thinks briefly of his mother and his sister; of Gamora and Rocket; of Miles and Kamala; of his father. Then - then, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's almost been a year since I've updated. All I can say is that life has an infallible tendency to get in the way of me doing things. Regardless, here is the next chapter!
> 
> In all honesty I would not have continued working on this story if not for the comments I've received. I read every one of them and I appreciate everyone's support. 
> 
> The next update should (hopefully!) come a lot quicker - I'm excited to finally write some DCU characters! Especially some of my Batman faces.


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